In Sick Bed
by TheSpazticFantastic
Summary: Anna is ill and no one is coping gracefully.


A/N: This story takes place within the "When All Is Lost" series. It's a collaborative, mostly canon-compliant project that follows Agnarr and Iduna throughout their lives. The stories are not written in sequence and are not listed chronologically on FFN. My collaborator is not on FFN, therefore her stories are not here. Apparently, I am unable to link them. There are two places to find the series in its current entirety (it is ongoing) and in chronological order. You can find it on Archive of Our Own. My collaborator's user name is Fericita and mine is TheSpasticFantastic. . You can also find it on Tumblr. My collaborator is fericita-s and my username is the-spastic-fantastic.

If she couldn't see through the gates, Anna figured she could at least see over the gates. And the walls. There was a whole wide world beyond the castle and she'd been cooped up far too long. Besides, it wasn't as though she were breaking any important rules. Important rules came with consequences. Like "Don't ever hide in a wagon again to try and sneak out or I'll have the guards bayonet every sack that leaves this castle, Your Highness!".

Captain Runde could be funny like that. But Papa had also called her "Young Lady" and told her to stop causing the guards trouble. Still, Mother had taught her to climb trees before she could remember. And even if she was thirteen and Governess Helga said she should start thinking of acting more ladylike, Mother and Papa didn't seem overly concerned. So even if it probably wasn't ladylike to climb up onto the roof of the castle, there technically wasn't a rule against it and if she didn't get caught was it really even a problem? She just wanted to see the people of her kingdom going about their days.

Still, she probably shouldn't have tried to climb it right after it had been raining all morning. And she probably should have worn riding pants instead of her skirts. Boots, come to think of it, would have been a prudent decision as well. Next time – because her plan had worked too well despite small setbacks for there _not_ to be a next time – she wouldn't try to scale the steepest part of the roof, gripping the slick wood so tightly that it made her hands hurt until she lost strength and her grip gave way.

But all things considered, the most important thing was that she hadn't actually fallen off the castle, just a few terrifying feet before catching herself. Still, Mother and Father had enough to worry about with running Arendelle and tutoring Elsa – well, who knew what she was up to in her room or her lessons, but her sister seemed to put a lot more stock into being proper and ladylike, and she probably wouldn't approve. So she kept it to herself and wore long sleeves to cover the cut she had received from a loose nail. She didn't even need stitches. Probably.

"It's not often there are two empty seats at the breakfast table," Agnarr remarked as he rustled the pages of his newspaper. Iduna frowned at him. "What? It's a quarter past eight. Anna is usually here by now."

"I'll go check on her."

"Don't bother yourself," he rang a bell and Kai appeared in the doorway. "Kai, would you mind seeing if Anna is awake? And if she's not, dousing her with a bucket of water?"

"Unfortunately, the Princess has taken to locking her door after your enthusiastic water alarm, Your Majesty," Kai said with a faint air of disapproval. Iduna bit back a smile. Kai was dear to her, but he cared more about protocol and royal decorum more than anyone. The castle was empty now. There was no one to impress.

"Oh? Well, just do your best then."

"I wonder if she's going through a growth spurt," Iduna mused as she examined a book on Russian myths. This one spoke of a Queen who lived in Siberia with a glittering crown and a palace of ice. Lovely imagery, to be sure, but less useful with regards to where the woman's powers originated. The author seemed to simultaneously imply that they were both a gift from God and a curse from Satan. "She went to bed early last night."

Anna slept as heavily as Iduna did. Once her head hit the pillow, she wouldn't stir until she was good and ready to wake up. Elsa and Agnarr, on the other hand, slept lightly and often woke in the middle of the night to ghost the halls with their restless wandering. Agnarr hummed his asset and placed his hand next to hers on the table, idly running his fingers along hers while he read the latest news.

Several minutes passed before Kai returned.

"Your Majesties," the concern in his voice was enough for both Iduna and Agnarr to look up from their reading. "Princess Anna is still not responding."

"At all?" Iduna asked as Agnarr rose to his feet. They shared a look.

"Do you think she tried to climb out the window?"

"Oh no." Iduna sighed. Anna was never one to just be content with climbing to the tops of trees.

"You have the keys to her room, Kai?"

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Come." The three hurried down the hall to Anna's room.

Agnarr pounded on the door three times. "Anna?" No response. He nodded at Kai. "Unlock it."

Kai opened the door and they entered. She was still in her bed.

"Anna?" Iduna gasped. Even with the curtains drawn, it was plain that her daughter was ill. Anna had managed to throw the blankets and sheets off of her chest and through her nightgown, Iduna could see that her breathing was quick and shallow. She was shivering uncontrollably and her face was sallow with an unhealthy sheen.

"Summon the doctor," Agnarr ordered Kai. Iduna placed her fingers against Anna's pulse and felt her rapid, thready heartbeat. She felt her blood run cold when she caught sight of a half-healed gash on Anna's arm. The wound was red and swollen, she gently pressed it and felt its heat as a small stream of pus oozed out.

"How did that happen?" Agnarr's concern was plain in his face and voice. "How fast-"

"No," Iduna said tightly as she threw the remaining blankets to the floor. "This isn't new. She must have been hiding it from us."

"What?"

"It looks three or four days old," she said. "The infection has had time to fester." She tried to keep the worry out of her voice as she looked at her husband. "She might have blood poisoning."

Elsa paced in her Father's study as she waited. Usually, he was here waiting for her to begin her lessons, but from time to time an urgent matter that required an immediate response delayed him. Her gaze ran easily along the familiar maps of the world beyond Arendelle and the castle, the portraits of those who had ruled before them, the framed sketches her Mother had drawn in her youth. She liked it here. This was a calm place where the only discussion was about law and governance. Grand theories and philosophy. Only the abstract. He never broached the topic of her powers or control in this sacred space. Her mouth tightened. Although perhaps that was just because he didn't want to deal with the water damage to the fine collection of law books that lined the shelves. She immediately felt a pang of regret. That was unfair. Elsa knew her Father had an unshakable faith in her ability to one day control her powers and reign as Queen.

She simultaneously pitied him and felt immense guilt for failing him.

The clock continued to tick away the minutes and by the time it had chimed the hour, Elsa was growing worried. He had never been this late without sending Kai to notify her that the lessons were suspended. She considered going to search for him or, more likely, returning to her room and waiting for him to come later when he had time to explain. The door handle turned and she sighed, relieved, and drew herself up to greet him.

"Mother?" She couldn't stop her surprise. Mother rarely came into Father's study when they were having their lessons. Elsa noticed the lines around her eyes and the way she was worrying her lower lip before she tried to hide it all behind a careworn smile. Mother did that a lot.

"I'm so sorry that you were kept waiting, darling, but your lessons are cancelled for today."

"Did something happen?"

Her Mother looked away and began to wring her hands. "Your sister . . .your sister is ill." Elsa felt the familiar tingling of her magic itching below the skin of her abdomen. It was spring. And Anna never seemed to get anything worse than a cough or a serious case of the sniffles. Even then, she bounded around the castle leaving used handkerchiefs in her wake.

"How ill?"

Her mother shivered and drew her arms around herself. She looked at Elsa sadly. "Very ill. Your Father is talking to the Doctor Sorensen right now."

"What does he think is wrong?"

She was rather amazed to see her mother roll her eyes and scowl. "It's an infection. That's what's wrong. And he wants to bleed her."

"He wants to what?" Elsa's eyes widened. It was a rare thing for her Mother to sound angry. And absolutely nothing sounded good about the words 'bleed her'. Mother waved a dismissive hand.

"It's an idiotic notion and I'm not allowing it to happen." She took a deep breath and, when she spoke again, her voice was calm and reassuring. "She's ill, Elsa. But we'll be taking good care of her. And although the Royal Physician has some . . .views – he's a good doctor and I'm hopeful that she'll be back on her feet in no time."

Iduna didn't enjoy lying to her daughter. Which was funny, in a way that wasn't funny at all, because she had become so good at it over the years. No, it's perfectly fine if you don't want us to touch you, it doesn't hurt our feelings. No, there's nothing wrong with wanting to stay in your room today. Yes, your Father and I are doing everything we can to support you. She shook her head to banish her self-recriminating thoughts as she returned to Anna's sick bed. Her daughter was ill. This wasn't the time to focus on her many failures as a mother. Medicine. Healing. She had always been good at that.

"Your Majesty," Doctor Sorensen was talking in a low voice to Agnarr as she entered the room. Gerda had changed the sheets and opened the windows to let in the fresh breeze blowing off the harbor. "When treating a fever such as this, we at least have the benefit of the sea. The fresh air can do her good. If we had caught this earlier, we might have taken the arm to stop the spread," he sighed and shook his head. "Too late for that now, though. But if you won't consider bleeding her, which again – I must say that in my professional opinion would reduce the amount of poisoned blood that is ailing her – then we must at least take steps to cover her and burn the fever out."

"We're not doing that," Iduna said as she took a seat next to Anna's bed and placed a basket with bandages and honey on the floor. The girl was starting to mutter in her sleep. Doctor Sorensen drew a deep breath and straightened up.

"Your Majesty," he addressed her. "By raising her temperature-"

"I know more than you." Iduna stated quietly, but firmly. She saw the Royal Physician open and close his mouth wordlessly, before looking at Agnarr. He clapped the man on the shoulder and started to lead him away.

"My wife, of course, is quite familiar with curing fevers. But we would appreciate any medications you have to alleviate my daughter's discomfort."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Doctor Sorensen bowed.

Agnarr walked back to her as she began to apply a thick coating of honey over the wound. Anna's head tremored back and forth, but her arms remained still. Iduna could see her cracked lips continuing to move, but was unable to make out any words.

"Honey?" He inquired.

"To seal the wound. Although it might be too late to do much good. I wish she had told us sooner. It can stop the spread of infection. It takes down the swelling."

"And what can I do?"

"We need to break the fever and get something into her. Cold compresses under her armpits and her groin. Soup and water – she'll need fluids. Do you see how dry her lips are?" He nodded. "Ask Gerda to prepare the compresses. The kitchen staff to prepare the food. I'll dress the wound."

"Of course," he said and kissed the top of her head.

"And talk to Elsa," she said as an afterthought. He turned back to her. "I might have frightened her in your study. The temperature dropped and there was some frost on the floor. Can you reassure her that Anna will be fine?"

"Will she?" She looked up from her work and found his worried eyes. For all his intelligence, Agnarr didn't know much about ailments and medical treatments. She forced a smile and lied easily.

"Of course."

His daughter wasn't getting better. He could see it in Iduna's drawn mouth and hard expression as the day wore into night and ground into the following day. The way she checked and re-checked Anna's pulse. No matter how many compresses she and Gerda applied, no matter which of Doctor Blodmann's tonics were forced down her throat, Anna was only getting worse. The only small mercy that Agnarr could find in all of it was that she was oblivious to the world around her. Lost in a fevered delirium, she muttered about trolls and blizzards and balls and Joan of Arc. She whimpered for her Mother, for him, for Elsa, but for all that her eyelids fluttered and her eyes rolled about in her head, she never opened them completely.

"Papa," Anna whimpered. He took her small hand in his and mopped her forehead with a cool cloth. She hadn't called him that in years.

"I'm here, Princess," he murmured. "I'm here." Iduna was wrapped in a thin blanket and sleeping fitfully in a nearby chair. Agnarr continued to soothe Anna until she stilled and lapsed back into a motionless stupor. Her face was slack with tiny, dried flecks of blood where her lips had cracked. Despite all of their best efforts, the fever was only getting worse and she was burning up. He rubbed his face.

Once, there would have been any number of experts of physicians he could have called upon to tend to her. Now, after years of keeping the girls away from the public, it was damn near impossible to bring anyone inside the gates without inviting unwelcome curiosity and questions. Elias was off on an expedition, otherwise he could have provided the perfect cover and helped devise a plan. But without a go-between, a broker, Agnarr felt at a loss of what to do. And even if he did engage the services of someone beyond their immediate circle, who knew if it would be effective? Even Iduna grudgingly admitted that Sorensen was an excellent doctor aside from his adherence to bloodletting as a viable cure. If the joined expertise of the Royal Physician and the Queen couldn't cure Anna, what other recourse was there?

He wondered, briefly, if he should go to the trolls to ask for assistance, but remembered his Father's story about begging them to save his mother when she was dying from childbed fever. They had told Runeard that their magic would help aid his family in its time of need, but by the time he had returned to Arendelle, she had passed. Though they were great healers when it came to magical ailments, he doubted they would be of any use with human frailty. Besides, Iduna associated them with banishment from her homeland and the separation of her daughters. It would be too much trouble for what would most likely prove to be a fruitless endeavor. It was best to remain by Anna's side.

Agnarr felt his eyes sting. Was this how his father had felt watching his mother grow weaker and slip away from him? To know that despite having a divine right to rule there were earthly limits to the power of a King? He hadn't felt this impotent and helpless since Iduna had burned with a similar fire during her unfortunate second pregnancy before she lost Revna, the daughter she carried for seven feverish months. He blinked and looked over at Iduna. An unwelcome idea taking root in his mind.

"No, Agnarr, absolutely not!"

Elsa crept down the hall, not wanting her parents to hear her footsteps.

It had been nearly two days since Mother had told her of Anna's illness. Since then, her lessons had been suspended and the castle deathly silent. Even though she and Anna remained separated, hearing Anna's laughter or the thundering sounds of her running down the halls or her shrieks as she slid down the bannister were often the bright spots in her dull days.

Gerda brought her meals three times a day, but other than the faithful servant she had seen no one. She roamed the halls, secure in the knowledge that she would not cross paths with her sister. She went to the gallery and inspected the paintings that Anna spoke to in the long afternoons. She wandered outside by the small pond where the ducklings were learning to paddle. If she couldn't visit Anna, then she could at least walk where her sister should be walking. She had been heading back to her room to read when she heard the low, aggravated voices of her parents.

"She did it when you were ill with Revna and I think-"

"How _dare_ you?" Her Mother hissed. Elsa froze, eyes wide. "How _dare_ you bring up the daughter I lost when we might lose another." Her heart jumped to her throat. It wasn't her imagination then. Anna really was that sick.

"Sunny," her Father's tone was contrite. "I only mean that she was happy to help cool you when-"

"She was only two, Agnarr! And just barely. She didn't know what she was doing!" Elsa felt sick to her stomach. Her. They were fighting about her. Again.

"Please, I'm sure she can control it. She doesn't need to touch Anna, but she can lower the temperature in the room. She can cool the compresses faster than dunking them in buckets from the ice house. We can ask her to cool the sheets. Elsa can help Anna!"

"Anna needs more help than just breaking the fever, Agnarr. Her body is still fighting the infection and cooling her won't do anything for that. It's more likely that the infection will kill -" Mother's voice hitched. There was a moment of silence. "Cooling her will make her comfortable, but it won't save her life. I don't want Elsa to have any reason to blame herself if – if the worst happens."

"It won't," Father's voice was firm and commanding. "She'll get better. She will." Elsa slipped into an empty room as she heard them starting to walk in her direction. "And if you don't want to ask Elsa, I understand. We'll keep using the cold-water compresses. But we're going to have to talk to her about how Anna is doing. And soon."

"Tomorrow," Mother said as they passed by on the other side of the door. "First thing in the morning. We should know by then." Elsa waited until she was sure they were gone and then bolted back to her room.

In the security of the confines of her walls, among her familiar trappings, she walked back and forth, wringing her hands and clutching Sir Jorgen Bjorgen to her chest as she hadn't in years. Of course Mother wouldn't want her help. She had nearly killed Anna with her powers eight years ago because she couldn't control them properly. And now Anna was going to die because she couldn't control them well enough to do something as simple as drop the temperature. Something that happened whenever she got the least bit upset. Like now. Elsa gazed up as a flurry began to waft gently around her. She took a shuddering breath and exhaled slowly. This wasn't helping.

Father had obtained a few books on Eastern breathing methods and other practices to center and calm the mind. She didn't think they were particularly useful most of the time, but she did find breathing out to feel a little relaxing. She chewed on her lip as she paced until she could taste blood. Without thinking, she brought her cool fingers to the swollen heat and it immediately vanished. She stopped in front of the window that overlooked the courtyard. It was night now and a pale, distant moon cast a cold glow. All was silent and still.

Elsa opened her door and was out in the hallway before she had time to think about what she was doing. She walked quietly, as she had so many nights in the years since the Incident, knowing that she wouldn't come across another soul in the afterhours of castle life. She would often pass Anna's door, running her fingers along the wood or pressing her ear against it to hear her sister snoring on the other side. But tonight, it was slightly ajar, the faint light and shadows of candlelight dancing on the floor. She tried to peer in, but could only see the wall. She nudged the door with her foot and it creaked open.

She started when she saw Mother and Father, but they were curled in on one another in a nest of blankets atop a feather mattress on the floor. Mother snoring as loudly as Anna ever did and Father grasping Mother's back, his head tucked against her neck. She felt like an intruder to stumble across such a private scene. She was about to go when she caught sight of her little sister, who was hardly so little as she once was, lying stock-still in the bed. Elsa stepped forward, entranced by the sight of her. She saw Anna whenever she went out to play or sometimes as she careened around the hallways, but never when she was at rest. Anna was always moving, running, dancing, talking – she was never still.

Anna looked like death.

Elsa felt her heart clench. Although she couldn't feel the room grow cold, she could see both her parents shiver and bury deeper into the covers and one another as their breath briefly hung in the air before dissipating. She hugged her arms against her side. Father had wanted her to cool the room. Surely it wasn't doing any harm if Anna was feverish? Step by step, she slowly drew closer to the bed until she could see the sweat beaded on Anna's face. She winced and tentatively reached out, never touching, but allowing her hand to hover a few inches above the compress on her sister's forehead. She fancied she could sense the heat from there.

Mother had said the infection might . . .she shook her head and shut her eyes_. Too much_. But cooling her would make her more comfortable. Elsa desperately wished she could just reach out and run her hand along her sister's face. What kind of older sister couldn't offer comfort at a time like this?

"Elsa?" She jumped. Anna's voice was barely a whisper. She nearly ran out of the room before realizing that Anna's eyes were still closed. Her sister's sudden, listless movements an indication of her fevered dream. Her gaze settled on the compresses surrounding her sister. Carefully, she removed one of her gloves and gently touched the damp cloth. The cold had long since faded. She closed her eyes and let her mind wander to nothing in particular. Her daily routine. A new book on agriculture she had been perusing. She just tried to exist. A person existing with her hand on a bit of damp cloth. She opened her eyes and smiled tentatively. There wasn't even ice.

She repeated the action several times, not once touching her sister. She didn't even have to try to use or control her powers. Her bare skin against the cotton was enough to cool it. She didn't have to do anything except linger. Even once all of the compresses had been chilled and she retreated to the far side of the room, Elsa lingered. She stayed as long as she could, until the gray light of dawn was visible on the distant horizon.

Agnarr had noticed the thin skin of ice in the basin when he woke and went to splash himself with water. He smiled faintly and turned to Anna's bed. The compresses were still cool to the touch. Anna was still restless in her sleep, but when he placed his hand against her brow, he could have sworn she felt a little cooler than the night before. He stole away quietly to shave and change into fresh clothes, leaving Iduna to get some more rest. It was just as it had been when they were young and she was faced with a particularly difficult illness. She worked herself to exhaustion. By the time he returned, however, she was awake and checking on Anna, sounded relieved as she told him that her heart beat was getting stronger.

It took another two weeks for Anna to fully recover, but when she did she was as healthy and hale as she had ever been.

"I'm proud of you," he told Elsa once their daily lessons resumed. He told her that often enough where she didn't connect it to her discreet midnight ministrations. Agnarr knew she was too uncertain of herself around Anna. Too fearful that she might hurt her sister, even though he and Iduna had suggested reintroducing contact two years prior. He didn't want to scare her so he let her smile and assume he was praising her ability to recall Hypatia's commentary on Diophantus of Alexandria's _Arithmetic_. She was such a clever young woman, he knew she would understand in time.

Anna was glad to have her energy back. It had been weird, waking up and barely being able to move her arms and legs. But Mother had sat with her almost the entire time, keeping her cool and giving her something for the pain that made her sleepy and giggly. She ate more soup that she had ever hoped to eat in her entire life. And there was a little scar, but it looked kind of strange and interesting. Almost like a leaf.

The dreams had been strange and interesting too. Moving mountains and trolls that swept rough fingers across her forehead. Her parents' distorted voices discussing magic and medicine before transforming into song. Elsa visiting and smiling down at her as she banished the fever away. But it was better to be moving again, instead of sleeping and staying in bed all day, every day.

Anna decided that the next time she climbed on to the roof – because of _course_ there was going to be a _next_ time - she would definitely tell someone if she got a cut. She would just say she got it in the stable or the church or the attic or something. People would believe that. She was always underfoot in all of those places. Over foot in the attic. Over foot was a word, right?


End file.
